But Jack hadn't the least intention of going. Oh, dear, no! He planted his feet firmly on the ground, while the man pulled, and pulled, and pulled, but could not make him stir a step. At last the man gave up and went away; but he came back the next day with two more men.
Then, spite of Jack's firmness, his legs were bound, and he was laid in a wagon, and carried miles and miles away from all his dear companions.
His new home was a small farm where there were no friends for him at all. Jack soon grew so lonely, that he even felt anxious to scrape acquaintance with the hens and chickens. But they all rushed wildly away as soon he approached; and one old hen cackled out, "Good gracious, my children, my children! do keep out of the way of that ugly beast."
Jack was so grieved that he did not dare to make any more attempts at sociability that day; and, indeed there was no one else he could speak to, except Growler, the big bull-dog.
"A fine day, sir," said Jack, carelessly sauntering by the kennel.
"Bow-wow-wow!" barked Growler, making a frantic rush for Jack's legs.
Now donkeys don't often run; but Jack ran then as fast as he could go, straight across to the other end of the field, and right into a lot of the most delicious nettles.
But what pleasure can one find in dainty fare when one is alone? Jack stood looking around till he happened to spy a goat who seemed to be about as sad as himself.